


Day After Day

by LemonadeGarden



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Bruce is a new dad and is still figuring things out, Dick is a cute baby, Gen, Just some good ol' fluff, Set when Bruce was just starting out as batman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 23:34:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9792005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LemonadeGarden/pseuds/LemonadeGarden
Summary: Bruce Wayne has a routine. A schedule that is never disrupted.  The schedule is good for him. Keeps him on his toes. Keeps him disciplined. Everything is carefully arranged, and nothing ever goes wrong.That is, before he finds a little boy crying in a circus.Afterthat, nothing goes according to the plan.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Set in the early years of Batman. 
> 
> Enjoy :)

 

Bruce Wayne has a routine. A schedule that is never disrupted. The schedule is good for him. Keeps him on his toes. Keeps him disciplined. Everything is carefully arranged, and nothing ever goes wrong.

The funny thing is, nothing new ever seems to happen either.

He wakes up at dawn. The alarm is loud. Brushes his teeth. Coffee. Always black.

Warm-ups. Today is muscle endurance and weight training. Five sets of seven at 620 pounds immediately followed by 30 reps of 310 coupled with a half mile of swimming and 30 minutes of sparring.

A shower. He changes into a suit. He needs to go down to WE today. Research meeting.

Breakfast. A big one. He has to consume at least 5000 calories a day. Six ounces of chicken and two eggs. Yogurt. Alfred puts blueberries in it like he's a sixth grader, and Bruce rolls his eyes. He reads the paper.

Work. He sits in his office, going through the emails Lucius sent him regarding the new research project they're funding. He thinks it has a lot of potential. Two hours later he heads down to the second conference room, and sits at the head of the table, listening and nodding and cracking jokes that everyone feels obligated to laugh at because he's their boss.

  
After the meeting, they break for lunch. He has a lunch date with Kelly Davis, a weather presenter who's all the craze in Gotham right now. He listens patiently while she talks about the new penthouse she's purchased upstate. Makes sure that the reporters flocking nearby get some pictures of the both of them.

He gets home at six, and Alfred opens the door for him. He changes out of his suit, and puts on the other one. The one with more leather and Kevlar in it than his other suits.

Head to the cave for a calisthenics and weapons training session. Does some research.

There's a new vigilante in Metropolis, and from what he's heard, he's not shying away from the press at all. Possibly a metahuman. He investigates a little, digging around on the internet for pictures and video footage.

Finds a selfie of him and middle-aged woman. He's holding her groceries for her, for _god's_ sake.  
The photo is captioned: _Was walking down Florentine avenue, and a bus almost crashed into me when I saw #superman! The bus is a bit dented, but we're all fine!_

Bruce rubs at his temples, and makes a mental note to start looking for potential weaknesses for this Superman.

He has dinner. 1600 calories.

Patrol. Stops three robberies and a drug deal. Men grunt in pain as he punches them. Sometimes Bruce thinks he enjoys this. Hurting people. This is the kind of man he is. These are the kinds of things he does, the kind of things he'll keep doing until he's too old and there's someone better at it. He's broken.

He wonders if he could do it like everyone else on a Monday night. Watch late night TV after a nine to five job, and tuck his kids in. Kiss his wife goodnight. No, he couldn't. He'd constantly be looking over his shoulder, waiting for the other shoe to drop. How long could a beautiful thing like that last, anyway?

He bruises and hurts and kicks. That's all he does.

He gets home, and sleeps.  
  


_______________

 

Morning. The alarm is loud. Brushes his teeth. Coffee. Always black.

Warm ups. Today is cardio. He runs hard, until he can taste his sweat, salt in his mouth and his breath coming in hard gusts.

Work. He smiles at investors.

The Cave. Weapons training and gear engineering.

Dinner. 2110 calories. Alfred makes crème brulé.

Patrol. Five robberies and an attempted rape. The man cries for his mother as Batman punches his teeth in. The blood runs down in rivers. He's thought about it, and he's realised why he goes out every night, and does these terrible things. He feels better when he hurts people. The pain goes away for a while.

He gets home, and sleeps.

____________

Morning. The alarm is loud. Coffee. Always black.

He wakes up feeling a pang of something. Loneliness, he realises. A strange feeling, in the pit of his stomach. It throws him off for a while. He schedules in another date with Kelly.

Training. Endurance and Strength training.

Work. He goes over the explansion plans for the new chemical plant.

Cave. He brushes up on his Krav Maga. He finds a new news clipping of Superman saving forty six people and a cat from a burning building, and wonders just what kind of person he's dealing with here.

Patrol. It's a quiet night. A car crash, and a building on fire with considerably more than forty six people in it. He can only save about twelve. He stares at the flames, his jaw tight. He's too slow on his own. Always too slow.

He gets home, and he sleeps.

_________________

Morning. The alarm is loud. Coffee.

Training. Cardio day.

Work. Lucius sends him reports about the Central city offices. They're underperforming, for some reason. Bruce makes some phone calls.

Cave. Software upgrade and sparring.

Patrol. He hits more people and wonders if this is going to be his life forever. This ridiculous cycle of day after day of nothingness and being alone.

He gets home, and sleeps.  
 

__________________

Morning. The alarm is loud. Coffee.

Training. Weights again.

Work.

He goes on another date with Kelly. They go to an performance theatre, but when they get there, he realises that it's actually a circus. That's okay. Better, even. More people there. More cameras. He should be at the cave. Today is supposed to be callisthenics and gear inventory. But that's okay, he'll make up for it when he gets home. An extra work out and full equipment check.

That never happens. By the time he comes back home, it's late, and he's not alone.

There's no patrol either. He goes back from the circus with a small bundle in his arms that's clutching at him tiredly. Kelly left hours ago, a little time after the police turned up, and much before child protective services did. Bruce gets into his car slowly, the entire event feeling surreal. What is he doing? He isn't cut out to take this kind of responsibility at all.

But he gets home, and he sleeps.

__________________

  
Morning. The alarm is lou-

No, it isn't. The alarm _isn't_ loud, he realises, opening his eyes slowly. It isn't morning yet. The alarm hasn't rung at all.

It's sometime around two in the night, judging by the reading on the bedside clock. He looks around to find what woke him up. A small hand is clutching at his arm. The hand is trembling. Bruce stares at it. He stares at the face that is almost white, pale with frozen tears. The face that's seen so much pain.

" _Hey_ ," he whispers haltingly, "hey, it's okay." What a stupid thing to say, he realises. The last thing you want to hear when your parents have died are the words _it's okay_. He, of all the people should know.

But Dick clambers up to the bed anyway, his face trusting and open. He rubs at his eyes, sniffling. Bruce looks at him, unsure of what he should do.  
"Can I," Dick says, his cheeks flushed, "would it be okay, Mr. W- Bruce, if I slept here tonight? Not even on the bed or anything, I'll just sleep on the couch. My room's just really big and quiet." But even as he's saying this, his head is dropping, his eyes closing. _God_ , Bruce thinks, trying to pin down what he's feeling right now. _God, he's just a kid_.

The pang in his chest from earlier has expanded into a full blown convulsing spasm. He can't _possibly_ be a good father. He isn't even a good _man_.

"You can sleep here," Bruce says. "I'll take the couch."

So that first night, Dick falls asleep in his bed, curled up right in the middle of it. Bruce moves to the couch and lies down across it, and watches Dick's chest move as he breathes rhythmically, the breath of a child who's slipped into a deep slumber. Up and down. Down and up. His own eyes close eventually, just as he can see the first steaks of light in the sky through the window.

_________________

Morning.

Bruce is up before the alarm. He gets off the couch, stretching. He should go have some coffee. Go to the bathroom. Start the day early. Today is cardio day.  
Instead, he stays rooted to the spot, and finds himself just staring at the tiny boy on the bed. He wonders if he looked like this when he was Dick's age. If he came and crawled onto the bed in the middle of the night in his parents' room. He can't remember.

The alarm rings, and it is loud. Bruce switches it off so that Dick doesn't wake up. He sits back down on the couch instead of going for training. Just this once, of course. Watches while Dick sleeps, his hands almost trembling at being given this precious gift.

Dick snores, and it makes Bruce smile.

Dick wakes up an hour later, and when he does, Bruce is still there, studying him with pale eyes that look like they're seeing through him.  
He rubs at his eyes sleepily, and says "Good morning," in a small voice, a little ashamed of his behaviour from last night. He wants Mr. Wa- he wants _Bruce_ to think he's tough.

"Good morning," Bruce says, his voice quiet. They're both whispering, for some reason. "I think if we ask nicely, Alfred will make us some pancakes."

"Really?" Comes the reply, sleepy and unsure.

"Sure." Bruce says, and watches as Dick sits up slowly, getting his bearings. His hair is sleep rumpled, sticking up in certain places.The sun has come up, and the warm liquid light falls over them like honey, sweet and kind. He's going to be very late for work. He might not even go at all.

It's a beautiful day.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.


End file.
